


One Hundred Stories

by ToreyTaylor



Category: Original Work
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, Compendium, Gen, Multi, Multiple Works, Other, Short & Sweet, Various Works, collection, themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToreyTaylor/pseuds/ToreyTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 100 short stories all based on different themes, to the four seasons, to death, love, the seven sins and everything else in-between.</p>
<p>My attempt at the 100 Themes Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to do this a long time ago whilst browing another writing site. It's far from finished but I do plan on completing it. Please keep checking back for updates!

**Winter**

Helen opened the curtains slowly, the tiredness that came with the respite of a ten-hour sleep still clouding her mind and slowing her movements. She was stiff, especially in the joints of her hands. She'd slept in a funny position again, plus it was mid winter and very cold outside. She couldn't stand it when the icy cold seemed to seep through the very walls of her bedroom. There was no escape it seemed from the chill of a winter's day.

She gasped in awe as she gazed over the lawn. A blanket of fresh snow covered the grass and everything else it had touched; the apple tree, the shed, the garden gnomes and other jolly little ornaments, the bare flower pots and the two bird baths. It was like overlooking onto a picture from a Christmas card. Her garden had always been her pride and joy but on this wintry morning it looked extraordinary, every one of its unique little features standing out, pristine, white and glimmering. A trail of tiny paw-prints led down to the frozen pond at the bottom of the garden and back again.

Smudge jumped onto the bed and began licking at her feet hungrily. She didn't know what it was about dogs and feet. Being a woman, feet wasn't on her list of tasty things. Dark chocolate, smoked salmon, a full Sunday roast (one that she didn't have to cook herself, mind), oh yes. But not feet. She figured that a dog's palate may not be quite as extensive as a food loving woman's. Giggling, she turned from the window, bent down to her face level and baby-talked her. She was a Border Terrier, her eyes as brown as chocolate buttons and her face a mass of gingery coarse fur. Her garden, although something very special to her, came second place in her list of things to be affectionate about. There was only one thing that topped the list and stayed there and that was Smudge.

She barked once to let her owner know that it was time to be up and dressed and then ready with the leash in hand and rearing to go. She cherished her morning walks as much as she cherished Helen and a bit of snow made no difference. Judging from the paw-prints, Smudge had already tested the strange white substance covering her territory and decided that it was still fine for walking in. Helen would rather curl up in bed and read her cushy romance novel for a couple of hours with a steaming cup of Earl Grey, but alas, Smudge always got her way in the end.

Within half an hour Helen was ready to brace the weather. Dressed up to the eyeballs in thermals, thick woolly jumpers and her musty ski trousers that hardly ever got worn (and with good reason) she felt like a beached whale, barely able to move at all, or so she felt. She was also donning a very unflattering fleece with her only anorak, which was purple and green, an absolutely _wonderful_ combination, over the top. Thank God this kind of weather didn't happen very often down in this part of the country. Smudge was jumping at the door and was also clad in a tartan dog-coat that Helen's Aunt Mary had bought her on one of her birthdays. She was a spoiled little thing and very loved.

Their usual route had never looked so different. Gone were the green hues of the fields and the evergreen bushes lining the path, gone were the splashes of colour amidst the leaves and the grass, the fiery red of the brick bridge, the rich brown of the twigs and undergrowth. It was all sheer white, almost blinding to the eyes. It was a beautiful sight, but oh so cold. Bitter was the wind that swept into her face and through the layers of her clothing. Her eyes ran and her teeth chattered. Smudge was lapping it up, though and had darted off in front of her. She knew the route well. It ended with a circular trip around the lake situated in a small grove of trees. She loved swimming in it. Not today though, she thought. It would be iced over. Helen giggled again, this time at the thought of Smudge 'skating' on the ice. She couldn't let her do that, though. It could crack. Then again, didn't that sort of thing only happen in movies? Yeah, of course it did.

Smudge was standing on the edge of the lake, legs splayed and looking frightened. Poor thing probably couldn't understand why she had lost the use of her legs. Even though Helen had reassured herself that these sorts of things only happened on TV she still tried to coax her onto safe ground. She was still worried that her little baby would meet a dismal end in the icy depths.

"Smudge, come on!" she said. "Come on baby! Come to mummy!" She whistled too, but it only made the terrier prick her ears. Her ears pricked higher still and there was no reason to as Helen had gone silent. She could hear something. Something quiet but sharp-sounding.

"Oh my God," she mouthed, her heart pumping suddenly and a bitter iron taste sizzling on her tongue and burning the back of her throat. It couldn't be, could it? Surely not. That sort of thing only happened in the movies. Even so, instinct took over any rational thought and she wobbled onto the ice. Smudge moved then, and as she did, the cracks slithered across the surface of the ice, surrounding Helen. She froze and all she could mutter was a cry for help. The cracks branched out around her feet and as they grew, new cracks were created until the ice looked like it could crumble beneath her feet and plunge her into the icy depths.

And then it happened. It took only a split-second. The water's ice cold touch gripped her feet and clawed its way up her body like a ravenous animal as she plunged deeper into its maw. She was fully submerged but then sprung back up and hit the surface. Gasping for breath was like pulling a lorry with a piece of rope tied round her waist – impossible. She felt a tightness around her throat which seemed to branch downwards, gripping her insides as it did and her arms and legs felt heavy. She could feel herself getting heavier and heavier as the icy water took hold of her. Somewhere inside was a little slither of strength and she used it to look around. She couldn't see much as the surrounding ice was above her eye level. She couldn't see Smudge but she could hear a dog barking from a distance. It grew quieter and Helen didn't know whether it was Smudge running from the lake or deafness setting in because she was close to death. Either one of those was an unbearable fact, but facts nonetheless. Her own dog _could_ abandon her. She _could_ die. And when everything around her faded to black, and when her hearing finally ceased to exist, and when she could no longer feel anything, anything at all, she knew that she was going to die.

She could hear sounds, alien noises ringing in her ears. A shrill sound, rising to a sharp pinnacle of noise and then falling again. It was a scary sound. It was the sound of death. Had to be. She had never heard anything like it before. There was another sound, too. A garbled voice. The voice of God, perhaps? No, he didn't exist. What kind of a God would let this happen? But if it wasn't God, who was it?

" _Helen…"_

"Helen."

"Helen, can you hear me?"

He was calling her name. Sounded normal too. She was dead though. Normality no longer existed. Then she heard another sound and this time she knew that it was something she'd heard before. It was the bark of a dog, but not just any dog. It was Smudge. She sounded concerned. She'd always been able to figure out her emotions from the way she barked. They were like best friends. But then, best friends wouldn't abandon each other…

_But Helen, she's right here next to you,_ a voice boomed from inside her head. _She's here. And you need to wake up because she's worried about you._

She opened her eyes. She was lying down on a fairly comfortable bed and those alien sounds she'd heard weren't so alien after all. They were ambulance sirens. A man was peering over her, someone she had never met before in her life. Paramedics surrounded her, checking her vital signs and attaching and reattaching tubes and other oddities to her body.

"Welcome back," the man said, happily. "You gave us a fright, you know. We thought you were gone."

"W-we?" she asked, groggily.

"Yes, we. If it wasn't for your friend I'd never have found you. She was barking so much and I knew something was up. She ran off so I followed her and she led me to you. I really thought you were gone. She saved your life."

She should never have doubted her. She ought to have known that Smudge would end up being the hero. Dogs never abandoned people. People abandoned dogs. It was unfair, but this wasn't. Best friends forever were Helen and Smudge and they always would be. Even in the coldest, darkest of winters, friendship between man and dog would always shine bright.

"We don't allow this normally, but thought we'd make an exception. Would you like to see your dog?" asked one of the paramedics.

Helen didn't need to answer because Smudge jumped up and planted many warm licks upon her face.

The End


	2. Pride

**Pride**

"What do you mean I didn't win the contest?" Claudine boomed down the phone. "Second place?! That's preposterous! I demand for it to be judged again. _Properly_ this time."

She rapped her red painted nails across the telephone receiver angrily, her lips pursed and her eyes bulging as the woman continued to speak to her.

"What?! You have _got_ to be joking. Do you have any idea who I am? I'm Claudine De Bella, editor of _Beauty_ magazine. We at _Beauty_ pride ourselves on looking ab-fab, 100% of the time."

Claudine's pasty white cheeks were now flushed with colour and she had stopped rapping her nails on the receiver and was now attempting to squeeze it half to death with her white-knuckled hand.

"What do you mean you've never even heard of it?!" she screamed. "I demand for there to be a redraw, right _now!_ "

There was a pause.

"I suggest you get yourself a copy of _Beauty_ and read it. Although, there's no sufficient lighting underneath rocks, is there? Just to let you know, missus, I _always_ get the last…"

The woman had hung up on her before she could finish speaking.

"…laugh."

Claudine wasn't just furious anymore, she was absolutely infuriated and heat seemed to emanate from her very pores. How dare she hang up on her mid-sentence?! She was Claudine De Bella! Editor of _Beauty_ magazine! Although what she didn't tell anyone was that the magazine she'd prided herself on was going to the dogs because hardly anyone bought it anymore. A string of bad reviews had really put the boot in. Now, she was waiting for the dreaded news; that her beloved _Beauty_ magazine was to become just a fleeting memory. In that sort of industry there were always other magazines going one better.

She'd been entering beauty contests since she was sixteen and she had always won. With her white-blonde hair that came to her shoulder blades, voluptuous red lips, jade-green eyes and a size six figure to die for, she had always made the other contestants fade away into the background. But now, she was a twenty-five-year-old and something had gone terribly, _terribly_ wrong. She was still as gorgeous as ever, just a little older, but instead of first place she'd keep getting second. It simply would _not_ do!

What did the winner look like, she wondered? Blonder, thinner and prettier? No way. She was probably a mousy little thing with one of those smiles that melts butter or something – and the hearts of the judges! She was seething inside and didn't realise that she'd dug her three inch long nails into her palms. She winced in pain as she stretched out her hands. She'd like to track that little cow down and give her a piece of her mind, _right now._

Just then, the phone rang and Claudine's hopes were momentarily raised, for her excessive pride had taken over. She just _knew_ they'd made a mistake!

"Finally saw sense, did you?" she said snottily. "Told you, I always look _ab-fab._ "

A pause. An extremely awkward one.

"Oh. It's you," she said dejectedly. "Oh, nothing, nothing hun. Sure, come round any time you want to, doll. Ciao!"

It was her best friend and former work colleague, Ariel. Yes, that's right. Like the mermaid. Silly name, really. She was christened Amy but changed her name when she turned eighteen. Ariel was marginally more flamboyant than Amy, Claudine thought, but it didn't just ooze class like the gloriously amazing _Claudine._ And she didn't have to change her name, either. Her parents were just posh like that. Nothing like a grand upbringing!

Ariel had mousy brown hair that was flat and lifeless and it lacked any sort of flair or style. Her eyes were a dull, watery blue and way too big for her face. Claudine thought she should rename her Ariel the Owl, but she didn't think it would be such a fantastic idea. She was too naïve, that Ariel. It meant she could be used and Claudine did that a lot. She was also sensitive and Claudine could use a friend or two. Well, one. She had no others. Her work colleagues all hated her. In fact, Ariel never disclosed the reason why she left…

A soft rap of knuckles sounded at the door and Claudine answered it. Ariel was standing there with those hideous owl eyes of hers and her drab mousy hair. She was grinning from ear to ear with one of those smiles that would melt butter and was displaying her crooked teeth and gums that were too pink. She should see the dentist with that, she thought, repulsed.

"Hi doll!" Claudine greeted cheerily. "You look absolutely _fantastic_! Where do you get your teeth done, I _so_ need to go there! Oh, and can you give me the number of your stylist? You're so totally rocking that style." Sometimes, people really overdid it with the two-faced lies, Claudine especially. "Come in and make yourself at home."

"Thank-you!" replied Ariel sweetly. The soft fabric of her modern floral dress danced in the cool breeze as she entered. "I've got something amazing to tell you! You're going to love it!"

"Oh yes?" Claudine replied matter-of-factly. It would probably be the most boring thing she'd ever heard in her life, like her pet cat that was dying of cancer to be miraculously fully cured or one of those stupid dogs she sponsors getting pregnant. So totally boring and not worth her time.

"You know that beauty contest we entered? Well, I came first place!"

She WHAT?!

Claudine stumbled backwards, knocking over her posh, tall vase and smashing it on the floor. It shattered into tiny pieces. Claudine was beyond caring at that point. Her face was as red as beetroot and her eyes were bulging. She coughed, really quite loudly.

"Ugh…oh God…I'm having a coughing fit!"

"Claudine!" cried Ariel helplessly waving her arms about in confusion. "Erm…hold on, I'll get you a glass of water!"

"No…no, I'm okay now."

Actually, she wasn't okay! How could she have been? Ariel was…drab! Plain and drab! With no dress sense! And she was size ten! She, Claudine, was beautiful by appearance and by name, with gorgeous blonde hair and a size six figure. SHE should have won it, not HER!

Claudine, still red in the face and with her eyes shining of purest anger, forced a smile.

"Congratulations, Ariel," she muttered.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

"Congratulations!" She flashed her an immensely huge fake smile, showing off her bleached teeth. They were so bright they could blind someone. She'd paid over a thousand pounds for them. So worth it, she thought. Ariel, however, hadn't been blinded. In fact, she could see straight through Claudine's fake niceness.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "You're actually jealous. I don't mean just a little bit, but a lot. Like, you actually resent your best friend for coming first place and not you. It's true, isn't it?"

Claudine had gone the shade of very ripe tomatoes and for a very different reason other than anger. She looked down at her feet and shuffled around nervously on them.

"No, of…of course not…doll. Really. Congrats."

She looked up and smiled sheepishly but Ariel had seen enough.

"It's over, Claudine," she said stiffly. "I'd like to congratulate _you_ for destroying the one friendship you ever had."

She turned to the front door and opened it but swivelled back to Claudine for one last time.

"By the way, my cat took a turn for the better this morning and one of the dogs I sponsor at the dog sanctuary got pregnant. You wouldn't care about that though, would you? Because you're _shallow._ "

She slammed the door behind her, leaving Claudine on her own with a pile of broken pottery on the floor of her posh little flat. Now Claudine was all on her own, with not a single friend to her name and with just her pride to keep her company.

The End


	3. Mountain

**Mountain**

His wings are gorgeous in colour, glowing with the hues of a fire burning valiantly and gleaming with the deep bronze of a precious stone. He is the king of the bright skies and keeper of the highest mountains. He is the golden eagle of stories past and present and the mountain is his home and will be for centuries more.

He soars, riding in the thermals as high as they can go before flicking his wings fiercely against the strong winds that accompany the lofty heights. His nest is above him, his female counterpart surveying the plentiful views and watching over his young. In his mouth, he carries his catch, their food. It is a hare and its flesh will be put to good use as it will strengthen the lives of his chicks to ensure that, one day, they too can be the keepers of the mountain they call home.

The End


	4. Ghost

**Ghost**

Maria had been a ghost enthusiast for as long as she could remember. Having had her first occult experience when she was just a small child, she grew up believing and has since then devoted her life to the paranormal. This is her story.

_Her name was Felicia and we met when I was five-years-old. She was just a girl, like me, with golden lockets that didn't catch the light but still looked beautiful, blue eyes that didn't glimmer or shine but still caught my gaze and a not-quite white frilly dress that floated about in the breeze even though the air in that old cellar was still and musty._

_I can remember being the one to talk first. I wasn't shocked, really, just a little bewildered by the fact that a little girl the same age as me had found herself in the family's cellar. I said hello to her but she was silent. I can remember her eyes getting brighter somehow and then I realised after awhile that they were sodden with tears. They were streaming down her face and dropping onto the dry, dusty floor. As I glanced down momentarily I saw that they didn't leave an impact. It was like her tears were somehow not really there. That was when I spoke to her._

" _Why are you crying?" I said sympathetically. I held out my little hand to take hers but she didn't comply. She just continued to stand there with her golden lockets falling around her face. I noticed then that I'd formed goose-bumps on my arm as soon as I held it towards her. She seemed to be emitting a coldness. I can remember likening it to the icy chill of a refrigerator when you put your arm inside to grab a tasty morsel. It was bizarre and I withdrew my hand but didn't back away. As a five-year-old, I was still unaware of the dangers that surrounded me, even here in the dank, musty cellar of the old house I lived in with my parents. It was a place that should have been off limits to me, but something had drawn me down to it and I had found the source. I was standing right in front of her._

" _Has somebody upset you?" I asked, this time keeping my hands by my side._

" _It's cold down here," she said finally. "Much too cold for a little girl to survive in. You should go, before they see you."_

_That was when my instincts took over and, like the little girl that I was, I ran towards the trap-door that was still slightly ajar. The sliver of warm light that shone out of the gap had never looked so pleasing to my eyes. When I reached it I glanced behind me curiously. The little girl wasn't there. Nor did I really expect her to be. I dedicated my life to finding out who she was but her presence in this world remained shrouded in history. Even now, I only know her name and that she died right there, in that dark, musty cellar. As a twenty-one-year-old, I still haven't found out who she was referring to when she told me they'd see me. All I know is that they were frightening. The little girl's face told me so._

_Even as a child, I knew that she wasn't really there. Sometimes, ghosts can seem so real that you just want to reach out and touch them, but there's a feeling inside that claws deep into your bones and very fibres of your body. It's a feeling of wrongness, that the person in front of you isn't really a person at all, but a small sliver of life gone by, trapped between the tiny void that separates them from reality. As an enthusiast, I perhaps feel it more than others, but I think we should all open our minds a little more and accept these strange and wonderful spirits for what they really are._

The End


	5. Pain

**Pain**

"Lucy, there's something I need to tell you."

"Sounds ominous," I replied in a sort of laugh. The tense silence that followed brought a bitter iron taste to my mouth. He had always been a joker, ever since I met him. In fact, the first thing he'd ever told me had been a joke. I could remember laughing so much I nearly wet myself. Not this time. This time he wasn't joking. It was the first time I'd ever known him to be this serious and it scared me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly with the rapid pulse that I could hear in my ears.

"I-I'm sorry."

He only ever stuttered when he was nervous and I knew all the signs anyway; I knew them because I knew what pain felt like. It was about to happen all over again. Suddenly it felt like my whole world was crumbling down around me and he hadn't even said it yet. Not properly, anyway. But it was coming. Any…second…now.

"It's over. B-between you and me. You're really nice, you know? But…oh God this is so hard. Lucy, I'm so sorry."

Even though I had mentally prepared myself for what was about to happen, I was reduced to a total silence. A lump had formed in my throat, hard and suffocating, stuck there like a piece of food that I'd swallowed prematurely. A horrible sensation had overwhelmed me all of a sudden. My eyes were stinging and my heart was throbbing harder and faster. This shouldn't have been happening over the phone. In fact, this shouldn't have been happening at all. It had happened too many times with other guys; other guys I thought were my Mr. Rights but turned out to be Mr. Wrongs.

"Don't be mad, Lucy," he said, sensing the awkward silence on my end.

Mad? He thought I was mad? That couldn't have been any farther from the truth. I wish I _could_ feel mad. I wish I could shout at him down the phone, unleash all the anger that should have been boiling in my veins. But there _was_ no anger. There was no fire burning away inside me. There was only pain and it was black, like a void that was full of suffering. I found out through experience that the void of pain was a lot more difficult to beat. Anger seemed superficial. Pain went deeper than that.

"I'm not mad, Justin," I murmured.

I wanted to speak up but I couldn't. I realised I just didn't have the strength, not even to plead with him. That was what pain did to me. It was draining, like the heat on a hot summer's day without the sunlight and the brightness and the sounds of children playing and dogs barking. Pain wasn't like that. Not this sort of pain, anyway. It was draining like sinking into the water of a vast ocean where your arms and legs have gone tired and you're slowly sinking into the darkness below your feet; the darkness that was the void.

I hung up then and let the receiver drop to the floor. It was hanging limply by the cord. If I could no longer have his touch, then I could no longer bear to hear his voice. Listening to him just made me want him more. It made the void even deeper and if that happened, God help me, I don't know if I could ever get out of it alive, not after escaping its clutches so many times before. I fell into my bed where I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

The End


End file.
